The Monsters Next Door
by voxinatwitch
Summary: A pair of strangers-the Winchesters- Monroe saw at the supermarket show up, ready to fight at his front door. When he Wogues to fight, things only get uglier.
1. Chapter 1

Monroe sighed as his phone vibrated, drawing him from his selection of zucchini.

"Hey, sorry I won't be home in time for supper. I have to drop by Nina's since Joey still isn't feeling well." The text was from Rosalee.

He startled at a loud noise, looking up and around from the phone for its source.

An old woman's cart had hit the end cap of the next aisle, cans clattering everywhere.

Onlookers, who'd turned to see what the commotion was, went back to what they were doing.

Among them, were two guys, with a cart stacked with beer, frozen pie slices, a package of baloney and some funyuns were having a discussion in low voices beside the apples. They looked up surreptitiously, several times, toward the zucchini. Arguing? Maybe they're were having relationship problems. Going by the looks of their cart, they certainly weren't talking about the merit of different varieties of apples. Definitely not the fruit and veggies types. Besides, why else would two guys be getting groceries together?

Definitely a couple, he decided, as he carried on toward the locally grown section.

…..

He heard a car pull up. The smell of gas and fumes like from an old car, a stench his neighbors' newer efficient models didn't suffer so much. But there was another smell, the vague lingering dash of beer, the stench of fries and burgers that lingered in peoples' pores, like they'd been soaking their insides in bad diner food for years, on top of the normal smells of sweat and human. And…that other smell…the volatile hint of something aggressive—

Something was scratching in the door, rasping inside the tumblers—

No, someone was picking the lock! He leapt back from the work table, adrenaline pumping. He raced across the house out into the living room to the door—no, too late. It was swinging open.

Two guys appeared in the open door, the shorter one in front, for a split second, a look of confusion crossed his face, as he muttered irately to the tall fellow behind him. "I thought you said he wasn't home!"

Who the hell are you, he wondered, stepping toward them from the shadow that draped the living room, agitation growing. Robbers? Why did they look familiar? He could feel a Wogue coming on, but fought it. Some stupid druggies trying to rob a house didn't deserve to get their faces ripped off, which was what would happen if he let loose like the time he protected Nick's Aunt….

""Hey, this doesn't have to be ugly. You really don't want to fight me—"

He stopped as a spray of water hit him in the face from the intruders' direction. He growled as he flicked water from his eyes, which he could tell were changing. The two looked somewhat startled, yet expectant, like they'd anticipated something more.

"Let's get this straight, you red eyed freak. We don't care if you're a heavy hitter. We've dealt with bigger! How about Abbadon, heard of her?" the shorter guy retorted, brandishing a long silver blade.

Oh, shit. It hit him with all the force of a runaway freight train. "Wait, you can see me—are you—"

"I don't know exactly what you're playing at, but you can do it the easy way or the hard way. Either way, you're coming with us," the tall one said.

"I'm not playing at anything! Get OUT!" Monroe lunged forwards at them, feeling himself shift into a fuller Wogue. They scrambled backwards into the yard, throwing a knife in his direction. He ducked as it rushed past him.

The shorter guy was at him now, trying to stab him. He blocked a blow to the face by grabbing the arm at the wrist. The guy howled, something popping up the arm, as Monroe jerked forcefully to the side, throwing him to the ground. The other man jabbed a dagger at him, which landed a slice to his hip. He recoiled, rolling to the side as the man unsheathed a larger blade from his belt, rearing back, about to stab him when a lateral impact sent him sprawling under a smaller, fox-like Wessen form. Rosalee… 


	2. Chapter 2

Monroe turned to deal with the shorter man, who was in the process of drawing a sword with his uninjured hand.

Monroe pushed him backwards, sending him back to the dirt, and pinned him there, pressing the man's own sword against his neck with one hand, pinning his good arm with the other. He pressed his weight down on the guy's legs so he couldn't move. He could hear the man under him gasping, wriggling, struggling. He pressed the flat of the blade harder against his neck.

He glanced up to see Rosalee send the other guy reeling with a kick to the ribs. He regained his balance, and took a swing a her, but she dogged it agilely, landing a blow to his temple. He crumpled to the ground. She crouched beside him, pressing her fingers to his neck. She snarled as she came out of Wogue.

"What the hell is she doing to my brother?" The guy under him choked out.

"Making sure he's still breathing," Rosalee replied, standing. "Not that you'd have done the same for us."

"Damn straight," He replied, trying to wriggle from under Monroe.

"Just stop it," Monroe admonished. "You're staying right here."

"You OK?" he asked her.

"Fine. Are you?"

"He got me on the side."

"Let me see, how bad is it?"

"I think I'll live. We've got to do something with these guys, though. And get this, they can see us. I think they're Grimm."

"This one's out cold. I've got something perfect for the other in the car, though. Just hold him for a minute!"

She ran to her car, footsteps pounding in the still air.

"What are you gonna do with us, huh, you fugly sons of bitches?" the man he held rasped.

"A lot less than you deserve," he muttered back.

Yeah, a whole lot less.

He could have sworn he saw the guy flinch at his words.

"Got it," Rosalee replied. She was back, with a cloth pouch in her hand.

"Can you get his mouth open?"

The man scowled, as if to say, 'like hell you are'.

"Do what she says, or we'll do it the hard way."

The man's expression of anger and disgust deepened, his lips pressed together tightly, an unmistakable terror showing in his eyes.

"Fine," Rosalee shrugged and pinched his nose shut. Several seconds passed, with the man trying futilely to wriggle from under Monroe's hold, before his mouth opened, gasping for air, as Rosalee pressed the bag against it—

He inhaled a whoosh of pungent-smelling herbal powder, and coughed once, as his eyes rolled back in his head, his body going limp.

"That should keep him out long enough to tie him up," she said.

"I'll go get some rope or something. Make sure they stay put." she said as she offered him a hand up, which he took, wincing with pain.

Monroe limped over to the steps to the porch where he sat down, holding his wound with one hand. As the adrenaline wore off, the pain kicked in. He shifted out of Wogue, feeling blood trickle down his side from the open cut. It was worse than he'd thought.

Rosalee disappeared into the house, leaving him with the two subdued intruders. He slowed his breathing, building on the yoga he practiced regularly, and then started pressing in against the cut to try to stem off the bleeding. He gasped as he did so at the sharp stab of pain. "Oh, damn," he muttered, fighting to maintain control of his breathing pattern. He couldn't do full meditation since that would mean losing focus on the situation, but…deep breathing would at least help slow his heart rate, and also the bleeding.

Presently, Rosalee came through the front door, and down the steps where Monroe sat. She carried a roll of duck tape.

"Oh, you've got to let me look at that," she exclaimed

"No, we need to get them tied up first."

"Yeah. But you stay there, OK? Let me do this. You're already bleeding enough as it is."

He nodded.

She shifted into full Wogue, and with the aid of the increased strength, rolled the larger man over onto his stomach with ease, and lashed his wrists together behind his back with the duck tape.

She moved then to the smaller man, who she treated likewise.

"OK, now, I guess get them inside, yeah?" she asked.

Monroe nodded, getting to his feet. "Let me help."

"OK," she assented, her concern showing in her voice.

They carried both inside, Rosalee still in Wogue, carrying most of the weight. Monroe was now panting heavily.

He sat weakly in a chair beside the unconscious intruders ,who they had placed slumping against the couch.

"Hmm, they could get up and fight like that still," Monroe pointed out. "They're nasty tough. Really wanted to kill me."

"I'll fix that." She taped their ankles together, to the nearer leg of the coffee table that was in front of them. "Might not hold them for long, but better than nothing, yeah?

"Yeah," he groaned.

"Now, no more excuses, you're bleeding way too much. I need to fix you up."

She offered him her shoulder, helping him to the kitchen.


End file.
